


By and Down the River

by Pixeled



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Pied Piper - Freeform, Seduction, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 18:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: By and down the river a monster sleeps.





	By and Down the River

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FFlove190](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFlove190/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Monsters of the Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17880467) by [FFlove190](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFlove190/pseuds/FFlove190). 

> This came about because of a conversation on the Loveless discord server.

It’s dark and Vincent’s red eyes glow in the low light. He has been here, shackled to the post, for a long time. He is not offered food and water, but he doesn’t need it, and he suspects his captor knows that too. What he needs is the life of countless souls, but going without won’t kill him. He has tried that. Of course he has. Immortality comes with many tests of what might break the spell, and so far, he has made many attempts at ending his misery, but they have all been unsuccessful. He stays there out of curiosity. Will he finally meet his end?

He has taken up residence in the forest. Many people have told stories, have warned that going into the forest means certain doom, and it’s true. He has feasted on young and old for an eternity. By and down the river there is a monster, they say. 

He’s been caught before. Usually he is more careful, but his misery has made him sloppy. He had lain down by the river and had taken his slumber. The clarion call of the flute woke him and his body responded. Now he is here—wherever here is. He thinks, perhaps, they aren’t far, because he can hear the rush of water from outside the cave he is in.

The man who lured him with the flute is beautiful. His hair shines red and he wears red leathers to match. His eyes are a brilliant blue. He has clever long fingers and his tunes are plaintive. He dances intricately to the music he makes.

When he returns, it is with the flute strapped to his back and he is cautious. 

“You aren’t like the other vampires, are you?” the man asks. Vincent doesn’t know. He has not seen one of his kind in years. Perhaps a century. Perhaps more. He says nothing. “No matter,” the man continues. “You still respond to the music. And now I will put an end to your reign of terror.” Vincent grins despite himself.

“You are welcome to try,” he says. “I have been trying for nigh on a millennia to end my suffering, but all has been for naught.”

“I’ve been killing your kind for many years,” the man says. “I will present your head to the king.” With this he moves aside his leather coat and reveals a long scabbard, drawing out a long red sword. A shame they must be rivals, Vincent thinks, for he too loves the color red. He has worn it for many years, adorned himself in it—the color of lifeblood. 

“Tell me. Why do you think you must kill me?” Vincent asks. It’s not out of self preservation that he asks, for he knows this man cannot kill him.

“Why, to protect the people,” the man says, easy, full of purpose. 

“Perhaps I am here because I want to be,” Vincent says. And it’s true. He could escape easily if he wanted. No shackles can bind him.

“Do you fear death? If you truly have lived milennia. Do you feel it was enough time?”

“Too much time,” Vincent says. “I am ready to end my time on this planet. As for death, I do not fear what I dole out to the people of Gaia.”

“My name is Genesis Rhapsodos,” the man says calmly. “I am the music maker. The pied piper. I am your doom.”

“Your music is lovely. As are you.” Vincent practically purrs. His deep voice is like dark silk. Genesis raises his sword and presses it to Vincent’s neck. 

“Though you be wrapped in the guise of someone beautiful, you are terrible and unholy. The goddess cannot bear your existence any longer, demon.”

“You have no idea the kind of demon I am,” Vincent smiles and bares his neck. Their eyes lock and he notices the way Genesis draws in his breath, affected. 

“Cruel fallen angel,” he hisses. “Dispel your charms.”

“No,” Vincent smiles, and his fangs glint in the low light.

Genesis attempts to behead him, and although he bleeds, it is not his own blood and the wound closes up. Vincent laughs at the bewildered look on Genesis’s face. He breaks from the chains and with his nails scraping down the red man’s neck he leans in and presses his lips to Genesis’s. 

“Play your music for me, human. It enchants me. But know that I will never die by your hand.”

And as Vincent leaves in a swirl of red cloth, he hears the plaintive flute follow him.


End file.
